


ULZAR

by windows_xp



Category: Nexomon, Nexomon: Extinction (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fanmade prequel, Gen, I'm writing this because it currently doesn't exist lol, If an official Ulzar game comes out please don't kill me, Ulzar is not morally perfect to put it mildly, like 2000 years before Nexomon One?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-25
Updated: 2021-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-28 00:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30130989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windows_xp/pseuds/windows_xp
Summary: Ulzar remembers stories of when the demons came.From the oceans, from the forests. Their King descended first, and spoke his wicked name, Omnicron.That name haunts Ulzar’s family. That name defined his entire life.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	ULZAR

Ulzar remembers the visitor. 

A middle-aged man, with dark hair and a slight limp. The moment Ulzar saw him, he knew what he was. 

An outsider. 

Curious. This was the first outsider he’d ever seen. Ulzar watched through the window as this strange, foreign man hobbled to the center with his single cane. His skin blotched with the sun; a funny brimmed hat and odd, white-and-red shapes at his belt. 

Ulzar’s father emerged from his home and told him to leave. That he had no business here; that he was breaking the village’s peace; that his young son would learn things he didn’t want him to learn.

The outsider nodded in understanding, touching his chin and rubbing his hands. It was hard to hear from his room in the tree, but Ulzar heard the words _messenger_ and _tamer_ and _wartime._

His father frowned and began speaking in a serious, low voice. _Wartime?_ Ulzar leaned closer to the window, desperate to get a better look. The outsider was shaking his head. Arguing. 

Frustrated, the outsider dipped his hat and wandered off, trailing the street vendors, and gone through the smoke of cooking meat. 

“Father, who was that?” 

“You won’t ever have to worry about it, Ulzar,” said his father, huffing. “Not ever.” His plenty years working as chief had worn him down, now, and he was wrinkled, calloused, full of old regrets. Familiar. Like the rest of the village. 

But that man was intriguing. And young Ulzar hatched a _plan_. 

Stretching out from his home in the great tree was a long, twisting branch. Ulzar took to it effortlessly, climbing the trees like they were made of velcro, and leaping to each trunk like a cat. Every movement was precise, thumbs carefully pushing from the wood, as if he were flying. 

He was nine years old. Tree climbing was his _thing_. The village grandmas liked to shout at him, toss scraps at him. Call out “Now there’s out future chief! Living in the canopy like an ape!” And laugh good-naturedly. Usually he ignored them. He just wanted his arms to be as strong as his father’s; mind as sharp as a leader’s. 

The grooves of the wood were familiar, too. He wasn’t allowed to touch the trees outside the village. 

Too many demons. 

From his place in the treetops, he could see the outsider’s path of clunky footprints, following it to the entrance. Children laughed and played in the streets, chasing each other as they tried to avoid people cooking and soggy mud puddles. He peered down at them from above, smiling to himself. _I’m up here and you’re not!_

The village entrance was lined with stakes. Ulzar always thought of them as comforting, friendly; now, from above, he saw how easily he could fall onto one. How sharply cut they were. 

And there was the dark-haired figure in this distance. 

“Hey, guy!” said young Ulzar, leaping from the trees, away from the stakes. “Er, sir. Excuse me, sir!” 

The outsider kept walking. 

“Sir? Hey, hey!” 

Ulzar began to rush. His feet became caught in the mud and dirt as the jungle blurred behind him. “Wait! Wait for me!” 

The figure was shrinking. Ulzar bit his tongue. He really wanted to ask him _Wartime? Tell me about this war!_

A war would make Ulzar’s life so exciting. He wouldn’t have to go to school anymore, or do chores. He wouldn’t have to go to chief training or demon watch or meal cooking. None! None of it. And he’d be free to climb the trees as he pleased, he’d be useful. He could be a lookout. He’d get a _nice_ uniform in the village colors, black and blue, instead of his boring school clothes. 

“Wait! Please!” Ulzar was rushing, nearly tripping over wild sticks and stones. No. This wasn’t good. He’d be hitting the boundary soon. How was this outsider — limping just a few minutes ago — so _fast_?

Too late. The man was gone, and Ulzar halted in his tracks, heaving. The line. The line drawn in the dirt, he’d almost crossed it. 

He hunched over, holding his knees, breathing. When he looked up again, the blood rushed to his head, and the trees clouded with white spots. No trace of the outsider. No hope to get him back. 

“Noooo,” Ulzar groaned. This could’ve been his only chance to talk to an outsider, and now he was gone, gone for good. His shoes were caked with mud, his goggles slipped from his head. His mother would ask him what happened, and he’d have to lie. Say he was nowhere near the boundary. That he’d gotten the thorns in his palm from a simple game. But mothers can see right through 9-year-old lies. 

But there, beyond the boundary, was something more. 

It was half-buried in the dirt. Brightly colored; it caught Ulzar’s eye immediately. There, in the mud, was one of the shapes from the outsider’s belt. He must’ve dropped it. Red and white, flower-shaped. 

“Hey!” Ulzar called out, cupping his hands to his mouth. “Hey, dude, you dropped your thing!” 

His voice echoed around the forest and went silent. 

Ulzar looked around, sighing. He was far from the rest of the village, now, and if _some_ one didn’t get that thing, who would? The outsider was going to have his thing lost forever. And Ulzar couldn’t just let that happen, could he? 

No. If he was going to be chief, it was his responsibility to get people’s things back. And be brave. And being brave was stepping over the boundary line. 

Ulzar stuck a single toe over; his thoughts began to race. _Do you know what you’re doing? Do you know how much trouble you could get in? Do you know how many demons are out there?_

Oh, and he knew. He knew the answers to all those questions, very well. But he did it anyway. 

An olympic-speed sprint to and from the red-and-white shape, grappling it like a baton and kicking it back to safety. 

That was close. So close! But he was giddy. 

He’d crossed the boundary. 

Trembling with excitement, he held up the shape. It was made of metal, roughly the size of his hand, wrist to fingertips. A blue glass orb sat in the middle, almost glowing. White on the inside. A red border along its four-petaled design. The thing had obviously seen its fair share of battle, with scratches and scuffs along the edges. 

It was something special. He tucked it in his school-issued pocket. 

Hidden. He remembered being excited at having a secret.

* * *

It was dinner. 

Ulzar’s three younger siblings bounced off the walls, screaming and jumping and shouting and wailing. Ulzar’s father tried to wrangle them helplessly. 

“Stop!” his father commanded in what Ulzar liked to call the “chief voice.” “This is the oldest tree in the village! You will respect it or leave!” 

Ulzar always thought his father was crazy for living in a tree. Everyone else got normal houses; why couldn’t he? But now he knew that living in the ancient tree was a great honor. It was close to nature, a place of isolation in peace. 

Well, it was supposed to be.

“Ulzar’s eyebrows! Ulzar’s eyebrows! They’re gonna crawl off your face!” screeched his youngest sister, grasping to pluck at them. 

“Stop,” Ulzar groaned, protecting his forehead. “Don’t touch my eyebrows!” 

“SIT DOWN!” yelled his mother. Instantly, each child fell to their seats, silent. His mother poured a glass of milk and handed it to Ulzar. “Lana, don’t make fun of Ulzar’s eyebrows. They’re — uh — perfectly normal.” 

Ulzar sunk into his seat, flushed red. He knew they were long, but wasn’t this a little much? 

The rest of the table was silent. Ulzar’s father scratched at his ginger beard.

“So,” Ulzar said, cutting into his food. “What’s a _tamer_?” 

His father suddenly slammed his fist down at the table. The glasses wobbled and spilled. 

“…Where did you hear that word?” the chief asked. 

Ulzar shrugged. Had he done something wrong? “I — I was just wondering. C’mon, what’s it mean?” 

“Well, simply put,” his father hesitated, “It’s someone who’s very good with animals.”

His mother placed her fork down on her plate. She avoided Ulzar’s eyes. 

“What? That’s not what I thought it was. Wasn’t the outsider—“

“Ulzar,” his mother said gently. “There are people in this world who do very foolish things. And one of those things is trapping demons.” 

“ _Trapping_ them?” said Ulzar, incredulously. 

“Yes. They use the demons as battle-slaves,” said Ulzar, shaking his head. “Ridiculous. It’ll never work out.” 

“Work out?” Ulzar’s mind was racing again. “Work out against what?” 

Why would people need to fight with demons? Why would it need to ‘work out?’ And what the outsider said about _wartime_ — 

“Don’t worry about it, Ulzar,” his father said gruffly. “This is why we keep outsiders _out_. To avoid messing with little boy’s heads.” 

His siblings giggled. Ulzar self-consciously hid his brows and stared at his fork. 

* * *

By Ulzar’s bed was a nightlight. It was globe-shaped, and lit with LEDs, so it changed color as it rotated gently. Ulzar liked to hover over it, like he was some higher being looking down at the world, ready to descend to Earth. 

But today he was looking at something different. The colorful lights inside weren’t made in the village. Neither was the plastic or the batteries or the wiring inside. 

And now he had something else from outside the village. The red-and-white flower fell onto his dresser with a soft metal _clunk_. 

So there were people who trapped the demons that lived in the woods, the creatures Ulzar’s father was so afraid of snatching children and stealing them away. And tamers, the demon-whisperers. They must be banned from the village. 

Suddenly Ulzar got a feeling what the red object was. 

He carefully picked up the flower. Was there a demon inside? Had he unknowingly brought a demon into his own home? 

But the war. _Wartime_. The tamers were fighting something. To use demons — it must be something bigger than themselves. 

Ulzar was afraid, now, but curious in the way that a nine-year-old craves adventure. If he had something to protect him, he could go further into the woods. He could go _outside._ Beyond the village. And see the rest of the forest.

The thought was thrilling. Hesitantly, carefully, he pressed the button at the top — 

The trap opened with a bolt of lightning, a flash of white. Ulzar covered his eyes. And a demon emerged from the flower. 

“Aaaa-AAAAHH!” Ulzar said, inching to his bed. “S-Stay back! Don’t hurt me!” 

The demon was a tiny, purple bird. It tilted its head from side to side, curious. It looked to the flower in Ulzar’s hand, to Ulzar, and back again. 

“A-A bird,” Ulzar whispered. “You’re just a little bird?” 

The demon chirped. Ulzar placed his hand out, and to his surprise, it didn’t attack. It behaved just like a normal bird. 

“Oh,” said Ulzar, looking at the flower-shaped object in his hand, “You must be so nice because I have this thing.” 

The bird chirruped. Ulzar held the dogtag around its neck. _Perchara._

“N-Nice to meet you, Perchara.” 

A demon! In his own home! It must’ve belonged to the outsider. No, not the outsider. The _tamer_. 

Perchara chirped and looked up at him. Its sclera were a light blue. And there — along its eyes — was a long black feather, curving outward, like — 

An eyebrow! 

Perchara had the same angry eyebrows as Ulzar. 

He held in a laugh. This little thing was a tree-dweller with huge eyebrows. 

Perchara flapped its wings helplessly, trying to lift from the ground. Ulzar scooped it into his hands. 

“You’re trying to fly?” It almost nodded, like human understanding. 

He looked out the window. So many trees, surrounding the village, going on infinitely. The bird demon belonged there, in the treetops. 

_He can learn._ Ulzar smiled. 

“Ok, Perchara." The tiny demon followed him to the door. 

"I swear I’ll teach you to fly.”


End file.
